


uncrossed

by spacebubble



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Episode Related, Episode s04e13: Crossfire, Fix-It, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, and a secret or two picked up from the zhian'tara, au where odo has a little more emotional maturity, they just make each other feel some type of way...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-17 04:16:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10586244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacebubble/pseuds/spacebubble
Summary: An alternate take on Crossfire that occurs immediately after Quark's indirect pep talk. It starts with a forehead kiss and ends up somewhere much less platonic. Like, zero platonic. And Quark entangles himself in Odo's personal life more than he ever thought was possible.





	

**Author's Note:**

> suggested mood music: dvsn's _try / effortless_ , or any other r&b jam of your choosing.

Quark waits for Odo to kick him out, but the stupid Changeling just keeps looking up at him from the floor.

He doesn’t know what to do next.

He has no idea what to do when Odo keeps looking at him with those wide eyes, like he’s never truly seen Quark until this moment.

The silence grows heavier and heavier and Quark wants to interrupt it so badly, but he doesn’t know how. He’s said too much already and he’s worried what else might spill out of him if he starts talking again.

It’s all Odo’s fault, obviously.

Odo, who keeps looking up at him with those sad eyes full of rejection and hurt, like some wounded animal too proud to paw at the door and beg to be let inside.

He should walk away.

Now would be a great time to walk away and return to his own quarters and go back to sleep.

He should walk away from all of this, but he can’t just _leave_ the dumbass Changeling like that.

Instead, Quark finds himself stepping closer to Odo.

He hesitates only for a moment before he closes his eyes and leans down.

And he softly kisses Odo on the forehead.

It’s only meant to be a quick gesture goodnight, something brief enough to deny later or write off as a moment of lunacy -

But then Odo yanks him down by the front of his pajamas and smashes their lips together and all bets are off.

 

*

 

Quark stumbles forward and Odo grips the back of his neck to hold him steady, deepening their kiss with a low growl that sends vibrations singing through Quark’s ears.

It’s almost enough to make a Ferengi faint. There’s a very real possibility he might just faint dead away in Odo’s arms if the Changeling keeps this up, and Quark tries not to think about how embarrassing it would be to wake up in the Infirmary in his pajamas and have to tell Dr. Bashir some half-assed excuse about how he fainted _this_ time.

The kiss is rough, but Quark’s had rougher.

The more they kiss, the more the memories of other kisses fade away, and all Quark can concentrate on is how _assured_ Odo seems, and how easily Odo takes control.

Where’d the Changeling learn to kiss like that?

Quark wonders if Odo’s had any practice, and whether it was with a real person or a hologram, and whether he even really wants to know for sure.

Distracted, Quark barely notices Odo’s other hand slide around him until it rests firmly on the small of his back and lingers there for a moment, possessive and heavy, before a rough shove eliminates the distance between them. Quark can feel the curved panels of Odo’s security uniform press against his chest, layers digging into his skin, and he makes a surprised noise straight into Odo’s mouth.

Odo chuckles and the sound thrums through Quark’s bones.

He almost sounds _happy_ , which couldn’t be right. When was Odo ever happy?

Before Quark can suspect the sound any further, Odo’s tongue intrudes past his lips with a rude thrust, and Quark makes another surprised noise, high and soft, from the back of his throat.

Never a stranger to unexpected things in his mouth, Quark quickly readjusts and parts his lips to accommodate. He’s careful not to graze Odo’s tongue with his pointy teeth, more out of habit than any actual fear of doing harm. Always the gracious host.

He wishes he could complain about Odo’s dry tongue and how strange it feels against his own.

Quark loves to complain, but for once, he has nothing he _wants_ to complain about, and that’s the strangest feeling of all.

And then he feels Odo’s hand drift away from the back of his neck, fingertips trailing dangerously close towards the edge of his ear -

Already far too overstimulated, Quark breaks off the kiss with a noisy inhale, sucking in air as fast as possible. He braces himself on Odo's shoulders, blinking.

All Quark can hear is the sound of his loud breathing.

He stares at Odo’s chest and how unnaturally still it looks in comparison to his own. No lungs working overtime, no heart beating wildly underneath.

Quark’s eyes travel upwards. He swallows hard.

He never forgets that Odo’s not made of flesh and blood. He knows this, the Changeling’s told him a million times about being different from disorderly humanoids. But now Odo’s gaze burns into him with an undeniable passion, and it’s indistinguishable from the gaze of anyone else intent on pinning Quark down and grinding his hips into the floor.

Upon making eye contact again, Odo breaks into a slow smile, and Quark pauses.

He pauses and takes stock of his current situation.

He's riding Odo's thigh in a way that should feel filthy but he’s too distracted by how Odo’s hand caresses the back of his neck like he’s made out of a delicate filigree, and how Odo keeps looking at him like he's a million bars of gold-pressed latinum, and Quark cannot understand _why._

“What’s wrong?” Odo asks him, as if _Quark_ was the one found sitting alone in the wreck and ruin of his quarters, and not the other way around.

Odo’s hands drift lower and settle just above Quark’s hips, holding him in place.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Quark says. He palms Odo’s chest, which remains as fixed and motionless as a statue. He can’t tell if Odo’s calmed down or not. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Better now.” Odo lightly digs his thumbs into Quark's sides. He rubs slow circles through the fabric of Quark’s thick pajamas as if the fabric didn’t even exist.

The touch makes Quark squirm, and Odo keeps smiling at him. Odo always did like making him squirm.

Maybe that was it. Maybe Odo was after some comfort sex. Or if not sex - Odo was a prude, after all - some kind of simple physical contact. Even Changelings needed comfort sometimes, right?

And if Quark could figure out how to monetize that, well, that’d be a bonus.

“Thought you didn’t want my sympathy,” Quark says, trying to distract himself from how much he wants to squirm even more shamelessly on Odo’s thigh.

Odo shrugs. “I thought a lot of things. But you helped me realize something tonight, Quark.”

“Oh.” Quark supposes that made sense. Bartenders were good for helping people realize things.

He tries to think of a suitable parting line for the evening, maybe something like, _Glad to be of service_.

Instead, Quark says, “Realize what?”

Odo smiles. Pulls him closer.

"You value me," Odo says with satisfaction.

And Quark's heart feels like it's about to hurl itself out the airlock.

"What?" Quark asks in a tiny voice.

"I know you heard me, but I don't mind repeating it." Odo can't seem to stop smiling. "You _value_ me."

“As a key component of the manhunt pool,” Quark says quickly.

“Right.” Odo nods slowly, obviously not believing him. It would’ve been infuriating if he weren’t still _smiling_ at Quark like some idiot. “Because you value me as a person.”

“Only for your hypothetical worth in latinum,” Quark insists, and even then he’s afraid he’s admitted too much. Didn’t Odo know what ‘ _value_ ’ meant to Ferengi?

Odo’s eyes seem to sparkle, and Quark gets the terrible feeling that Odo knows exactly what it means.

Casually, Odo says, "Even if the pool isn't real -"

"It _is_ ," Quark protests weakly. He can feel his lobes burning. He knows he must be blushing.

"The fact that you would make up something like that, just to make me feel better -”

“I _wasn’t_ making it up -”

“- shows how much you care. About me."

Quark’s pajamas are zipped all the way up to his neck, and he feels completely, utterly naked.

He wants to run away and hide. Forever. Underneath a dozen blankets at least, maybe more.

“And it's not as a friend,” Odo adds. "You said so yourself. You weren't talking to me as a friend."

If Quark thought he was blushing before, he suspects he’s turned a full shade darker by now.

“So what if I wasn’t?” Quark unzips his pajamas, just a little, to give himself more room to breathe.

“Then it means you think of me as something else. More than a friend, perhaps?” Odo chuckles and the sound wavers between sarcasm and fondness. “Not that you’d ever tell me the truth directly.”

“Tell you the truth?” Quark tries to laugh, but it comes out more like a shaky sigh. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Maybe he could still talk his way out of this.  

“Listen, Odo.” Quark adopts a serious tone, so sincere it almost pains him to use it. “I wasn’t trying to start anything.”

“But you did. You _kissed_ me," Odo says in wonder, and Quark immediately goes on the defensive by default.

"You kissed me first!" Quark protests. He's done nothing wrong this time, he's almost certain of it.

Odo frowns. “When?”

“When you were Curzon! You know, during the zhian’tara? Pervy old Trill hijacking your body?”

“Ah,” Odo says, prolonging the syllable and sounding as patronizing as ever, and Quark can’t decide if he feels more annoyed or relieved at the familiarity. “But the zhian’tara concluded months ago, Quark.” And the corner of his mouth curls up in a decidedly Curzon-esque smirk. “Or have you been thinking about it ever since?”

Well, shit.

Maybe he couldn’t find a way out of this.

“I was only kissing you platonically,” Quark blurts out.

At that, Odo barks with laughter.

His chest shakes with amusement and Quark can feel every move of it underneath his palms. He’d remove his hands if they weren’t trapped between their chests. Odo must’ve pulled them close again when Quark wasn’t looking.

Sneaky old shapeshifter.

“Didn’t _feel_ very platonic when you were humping my leg,” Odo teases, and he _has_ to have borrowed that knowledge from Curzon, because Quark would bet his entire stockroom Odo’s never experienced _that_ , personally, before tonight. “Or do you make a habit of submitting to unsolicited kisses out of... generosity?”

The jibe distracts Quark from focusing on the dangerously suggestive tone in Odo’s voice. He narrows his eyes. “You _know_ Ferengi don’t do anything out of generosity.”

Odo smirks. “Not the good ones, in any case.” And his voice softens. “And you’re not a very good Ferengi, Quark.”

He suspects he should feel insulted. But Odo keeps looking at him like being a bad Ferengi is a good thing, and Quark doesn’t know how to react.

“You’ve got it all wrong,” Quark says. “You’re completely misinterpreting my actions, as usual.”

“Am I?” Odo sounds thoughtful. “Then tell me, Quark, how _should_ I have interpreted you kissing me on the forehead?”

Quark huffs. “There’s nothing _to_ interpret! You were upset. I happened to be there. It’s what anyone would’ve done.”

Odo shakes his head. “I don’t think so, Quark. Not just anyone would’ve done that.”

Scowling, Quark glances away.

“And not just anyone,” Odo adds, “would have picked the lock to my quarters to find out what was wrong. Which is a blatant violation of station regulations, by the way.” His thumbs continue tracing slow spirals through Quark’s pajamas. “But I suppose there were... extenuating circumstances.”

“Not just anyone has my skills in lockpicking,” Quark scoffs. He glances back at Odo. “And yeah, what you said. Extenuating circumstances.”

“If you had any sense, you wouldn’t have bothered.” Odo slides his hands upwards and rubs Quark’s back in an unexpectedly consoling gesture. “You could’ve called Security instead.”

“You _are_ Security.” Quark frowns. It hadn’t occurred to him to ask anyone else for help. “And besides, you wouldn’t have wanted your deputies to see you like that, right?”

A slight darkness mars Odo’s face, then passes. “Right.”

“You’re their hero,” Quark continues. “They look up to you. You’re living proof that justice never sleeps. Who am I to disabuse them of that notion?”

He can’t figure out why Odo’s smiling at him again.

Despairing, Quark adds, voice quiet and helpless, “What else was I supposed to do?”

“You didn’t have to do anything.”

Quark sighs. That was his entire problem, honestly. “I know.”

“You didn’t have to get yourself involved.”

“I know.” Quark shuts his eyes.

“You could’ve left me here to sit alone in the dark,” Odo says. “You saw me at my worst. And you stayed.”

“I’m an idiot,” Quark mutters to himself.

“No, Quark.” Odo sounds thoughtful. “Perhaps at other times, I’ll concede. But not this time.” He continues rubbing Quark’s back in a soothing manner. “You _would_ be an idiot if, like me, you had wasted your time loving someone who didn’t love you in return.”

Quark opens his eyes.

“Wait,” Quark says. “ _If_ I had…”

“Wasted your time.” Odo tilts his head. “But you didn’t. You haven’t.”

Quark blinks.

His heart feels like it’s beating at warp speed.

“I haven’t?” Quark asks.

Odo nods. He reaches up and gently takes ahold of Quark’s chin. “I want to get on with my life, Quark. You’re a mystery I’ve been trying to solve for years. And I don’t want to waste any more time.”

He pulls Quark’s face closer, eyelids lowering -

“Wait,” Quark says, even as he feels himself twitching underneath, yearning for more contact. “Are you _sure_ this isn’t some leftover Trill memory gone wrong, or maybe some hormones infecting you from Ambassador Troi’s last visit, or -”

“Quark, I’m sure,” Odo exhales, close enough to graze his lips with each word. “Stop stalling. Haven’t you waited long enough?”

Quark lets his eyes fall shut as he leans into the kiss.

It’s late and he’s tired, but he’s not about to let an opportunity go to waste -

 

*

 

Quark’s painfully aware that his pajamas are quite possibly the least sexy thing he could be wearing right now. They were meant for sleeping alone, not for sleeping with anyone. He has far more enticing garments back in his quarters, items from his favorite boutiques on Ferenginar that he’d much rather show off instead.

Yet somehow none of that deters Odo from treating his pajamas as if they were the most provocative form of clothing, worthy of a slow removal with rough hands.

Normally Quark would whine about the slowness, but he doesn’t want to risk ending things prematurely.

It’s strange that Odo seems to know what he’s doing.

He wonders if the Changeling has been spying on his holosuites.

He must have wondered aloud because Odo scoffs incredulously in response.

“As if I would ever stoop to your level of unscrupulous prying.”

There’s a pause as Odo finishes dragging Quark’s zipper past the navel, and Quark inhales sharply at the ticklish sensation of Odo’s hand slipping between his clothes and his skin.

“Your instincts weren’t wrong,” Odo murmurs. “I may have retained a few things from Curzon after the zhian’tara. And I may have skimmed a few of your imports over the years.”

“A few -”

“To check for excessively obscene material,” Odo clarifies, before capturing Quark’s lips in another kiss, muffling any further queries.

Like a kiss ever stopped Quark from shutting up before.

He quickly pulls back from the kiss - not without some reluctance - and eyes Odo with curiosity. “But I’d have known if you rented a holosuite. And there’s a bonus for anyone on my staff who catches your name in the rental logs -”

Odo’s mouth twists into a self-satisfied smirk. “A pseudonym and a hefty tip does wonders, I’ve observed.”

It’s a very Ferengi admission, and Quark tries not to let it get to his head. “You bribed my waiters? Which one?” He narrows his eyes. “Was it Broik?”

He yelps as Odo nuzzles his ear briefly, just enough to make Quark keen for a second.

“I don't name my informants, Quark.” Odo chuckles. “And their wages are abysmal, as you very well know. It’s perfectly legal for your staff to get some well-earned tips.”

Quark blithely ignores the pointed comment about his staff and focuses on the more pertinent issue at hand. “And as _you_ might very well know, a lot of the programs don’t get to the good parts right away - just in case anyone accidentally opens something they shouldn’t have. You would’ve had to run them for quite some time, Odo. How far did you go?”

“Only to verify they were what I suspected they were.”

He arches a browridge. “And how would you know which ones to suspect?”

“I know _you_ , Quark.” Odo eyes his shoulders for a moment, contemplating something, before glancing back at Quark’s face. “Anything you import automatically merits some suspicion.”

Before Quark can say anything further, Odo grabs hold of his open pajamas, fisting the fabric in his hands with another Curzon-esque smirk.

In one fluid motion, he strips Quark down to the waist.

Quark gasps at the sudden onslaught of cool station air against his bare shoulders, and Odo tuts sympathetically.

“Cold?”

Quark nods, and he becomes very aware of Odo’s simulated uniform coming into contact with his naked chest as the Changeling pulls him closer.

“We can relocate to the bedroom,” Odo offers, and Quark coughs in surprise.

“You have a bedroom?”

“And a bed, but I’ve never used it." Odo smiles. "Yet."

A litany of firsts run through Quark’s mind as he contemplates breaking in Odo’s unused bed.

He looks at the fragments of metal and glass littering the floor around them, then back at Odo.

"Yeah," Quark says. "Bed sounds great."

 

*

 

The bed’s a little stiff, but so is Quark, and he’s ready to get broken in.

He’s still not entirely convinced Odo’s sincere about moving on from Kira, but that’s fine. He’s used to being a distraction, a practice ground for more serious relationships. He’s given comfort sex before. He knows what to expect.

Quark tries distract himself from how vulnerable he feels, lying naked on the bedspread.

Maybe Odo would flip him over with that Changeling strength of his, bind him with a tentacle or two. Or maybe they’d start at the bed and end up fucking against the wall - Odo didn’t have any bedroom decorations, there’d be nothing to fall down and crash on the floor. Or maybe they’d end up on the floor after all, since this floor didn’t have any dangerous debris lying around...

Quark looks up at Odo expectantly.

“Well?” he asks, trying not to sound too impatient, and Odo laughs.

“I thought you’d tell me what you want. You’re so demanding otherwise,” Odo teases.

Quark huffs. “I’m not _demanding_ -” Then he pauses.

He’s never had anyone ask him what he wants in the bedroom before. Not this directly, at least. Even Natima, sweet and gentle Natima, often ambushed him and tied his wrists to the bedpost before remembering to ask what he wanted next.

“Wracked with indecision, Quark?” Odo sprawls next to him in the bed. He props a chin up in one hand and lazily drapes the other hand across Quark’s torso, pulling him close. “What do you want?”

Quark gulps.

He suspects comfort sex is no longer part of the equation.

He turns to look at Odo, terrified all of a sudden, and the Changeling’s smile softens.

“Quark,” Odo whispers. “If you don’t want -”

“No I _really_ want you to fuck me,” Quark says in a hurry, “but I don’t know how to start -”

He buries his face into Odo’s chest and gasps as Odo’s hand dips lower and wraps around him, touching him like he’s touched himself so many times in the dark, in the shower, in bed.

He shuts his eyes and keens pathetically in octaves higher than his normal range, so loud that he’s barely aware of Odo murmuring something in his ear. Odo’s lips are too close to him and the fingers around him are too nimble and the dual sensations of hand and mouth overwhelm Quark beyond reasoning.

He bucks into Odo’s hand with a broken whimper, spilling himself all over Odo with an embarrassing quickness, and Odo grunts in surprise.

“Quark?” Odo withdraws his hand, sounding perplexed. “Did you already…?”

A wordless whine escapes him. It vaguely resembles a noise of assent.

Odo uses his other hand to tilt Quark’s face up, thumb lightly pushing underneath his chin, and Quark just stares at him, ravished, gasping for air, incoherent.

Tears sting at his eyes and Quark blinks them away.

“Are you hurt?” Odo asks, fingers gently caressing Quark’s jaw.

He shakes his head and Odo’s voice becomes gruff with concern.

“Don’t lie to me, Quark. Not about this.”

“I’m fine,” Quark says, and Odo lets go of his jaw.

“But you…”

“Curzon never had anyone come so fast, huh?”

“Not that I can recall.” Odo looks faintly embarrassed, and Quark wishes he could blush. “Did I… was I too...”

“You,” Quark says dreamily, “were _perfect_.” And he can feel Odo’s entire body relax minutely, as if the goo inside felt permitted to move about once more. “Just give me a few minutes and we can go again.”

Another grunt of surprise. “Again? Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Quark reassures him. He glances up. “Really, Odo. Ferengi have shorter refractory periods than other humanoids.”

He watches Odo mentally search for the phrase and come up blank.

“Which means…?”

Quark tries to leer, but suspects he’s giving more of a besotted grin.

“The night’s not over yet.”

 

*

 

He wasn’t lying earlier, not exactly, but Quark knows he’ll be spent after another orgasm, so he lays out some ground rules.

“Don’t touch my ears,” he cautions, and Odo scrutinizes him in disbelief.

“ _Don’t_ touch your ears?”

“Yes, Odo,” Quark replies testily. “And before you ask me again, yes, I’m sure.” His cheeks grow hot as he adds quickly, “I don’t want to come again too soon.”

“Very well,” Odo says mildly, and something occurs to Quark.

“Speaking of. Did you... _feel_ anything earlier? When I…?” And he gestures below wordlessly, embarrassed all of a sudden.

“When you orgasmed?” Odo asks, dry as ever.

At any other time, Odo’s intonation would’ve made Quark snort with amusement.

But in bed, with Odo’s attention focused entirely on him, and Odo’s hands idly caressing the curves of his very naked back, the Changeling’s gravelly voice makes Quark feel something else entirely.

“Yeah,” he exhales shakily. “Um. Did you?”

Odo smiles. “A little. It took me by surprise, though, so I’m not entirely sure how to trigger it.” He lowers his voice. “We’ll just have to investigate further, won’t we?”

A shiver runs through Quark.

“Don’t speak in my ear either,” he says, and Odo’s smile turns into a smirk.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Don’t _mm-hmm_ me, Constable.” Quark rolls his eyes. He counts in his head. “Oo-mox, speaking… oh!” He bites his lip. “And don’t grab my wrists.”

Naturally, Odo’s glance drifts towards Quark’s wrists.

“Odo?”

“Hmm?” The Changeling darts a look back up, looking faintly embarrassed again.

“My wrists,” Quark repeats, hoping he’ll remember to explore this nascent kink of Odo’s at a later time. He wonders if it’s a Curzon preference, or if it’s all Odo.  

Somewhat reluctantly, Odo nods. “I won’t touch them.”

He sounds like he would much rather do the opposite, and Quark grins.

 

*

 

Once Quark’s assured Odo that he’s truly, honestly, ready to try again, Odo wastes no time in pinning him to the mattress.

He’s careful not to touch Quark’s ears or wrists, careful not to speak too closely as he mutters things in Bajoran that Quark’s universal translator doesn’t entirely catch.

Odo’s so careful that it’s frustrating, and Quark starts regretting the ground rules he’s established so foolishly in his initial post-coital daze.

His regrets blossom into full-fledged remorse as Odo shapeshifts his security uniform away, presenting Quark with an alluringly lithe body and hints of hard muscle underneath unblemished skin. Just enough to maintain the illusion of being naked, but not so precise as to look like an imposter wearing Odo’s face.

Much to his dismay, Quark supposes he wouldn’t have it any other way.

His mouth runs dry as he runs his hands along Odo’s flanks, touching him like a fine gem appraiser, admiring with his fingertips as well as his eyes.

Chuckling lightly, Odo takes that as his cue to slide his hand underneath Quark’s thigh and lift it up, sliding his hand further and further along until Quark’s ankle rests on his shoulder, and Odo’s face rests on Quark’s leg.

Quark’s breath hitches as Odo slowly turns his head to nuzzle Quark’s leg, his hair brushing against Quark’s ankle, tickling the skin.

“Hey,” Quark says, voice ragged. “What are -”

He cuts himself off at the sight of Odo glancing back down at him with a half-lidded gaze.

Odo lazily rubs his cheek against Quark’s upraised leg once more, rumbling from the depths of his chest like some domesticated creature, freshly tamed. He nuzzles the inside of Quark’s thigh on a slow downwards trajectory, stopping only when his shoulder nestles into the curve underneath Quark’s knee.

“Leg fetish?” Quark asks weakly, outrageously turned on, and Odo gives him a wry look.

“It’s pleasant,” Odo remarks, absently curling his hand so that his fingertips can access Quark’s softer skin more easily. “The texture of you.”

Rules or not, Quark suspects he won’t last much longer after that.

He kicks his leg off of Odo’s shoulder so quickly that it catches the Changeling by surprise, leaving Odo kneeling between his legs, eyeing him curiously.

Quark wastes no more time. He clambers into Odo’s lap shamelessly and tangles his fingers into Odo’s hair.

“In me,” Quark demands, and he doesn’t even bother responding to Odo’s obvious delight at correctly identifying him as demanding. “Now. _Please_.”

Odo’s eyes seem to shine as he beholds the panting Ferengi in his arms. “As you wish,” he says in awe.

 

*

 

A few moments later, and a few different proposed shapes later -

Quark exhales sharply as he finishes lowering himself to the hilt.

He opens his eyes.

Words fail him as he stares into Odo’s fond gaze.

He opens his mouth to speak, but the Changeling beats him to the punch.

“Comfortable?” Odo asks, too tender to be smug, and Quark smiles so hard his cheeks hurt.

“Yes, you dirty old shapeshifter.”

A mischievous gleam appears in Odo’s eyes. He thrusts upwards with a deliberate motion that makes Quark stifle a wide-eyed whimper in response.

“Just trying to live up to the label,” Odo murmurs, rubbing Quark’s shaking back with a gentle hand. “Shall I continue?”

Quark nods frantically.

He finds himself ranting more things that the universal translator can’t quite catch as he rocks his hips in time with Odo’s thrusts, riding him up and down and synchronizing their movements as only an expert lecher can.

For his part, Odo seems to luxuriate in Quark’s pleasure, receiving it and returning it in a divine loop of feeling that courses through Quark’s veins with a sweet violence, possessing him entirely in an affection that suspiciously resembles love.

It’s short work before Quark comes undone in Odo’s arms, noisily and messily, face buried in the juncture between Odo’s shoulders and neck.

They’re at opposite ends of a string that’s tangled worse and worse over time, and Quark supposes they’ll be entangled forever after this.

 

* * *

 

Quark can barely keep his eyes open.

He’s vaguely aware that Odo's trying to get his attention by gently nuzzling his cheek.

“What,” he says drowsily, eyes already drooping shut.

“Quark.”

“What, Odo?”

“You were right.” Odo presses a slow kiss to the corner of his mouth, and Quark makes a sleepy noise in response.

“Hm?”

“I always get my man,” Odo whispers in his ear.

It’s the last thing Quark hears before he falls asleep, smiling, in Odo’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> ;)
> 
> so, i wanted to mark my 10th ao3 fic with a bang,


End file.
